Green Leaves
by Phoenix of the Air
Summary: All trees have roots. And all trees have leaves. When the root ages, the leaves are the only sign of growth. In the Second Age of Middle-Earth, the elves of Mirkwood live peacefully. The line of Oropher flourishes, and friendship will blossom between the heir of Oropher and an old elf. Legolas' childhood story. Please read and review. :)
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**Disclaimer: **Do not own LOTR and all known characters. This disclaimer applies for the entire story.

**Warning: **It is not romance. Please respect this viewpoint!

**Rating: **Rated T for safety.

Enjoy! :)

**~S~**

_In the Second Age,_

_Forest of Mirkwood._

**Prologue:**

Thranduil dug his booted feet into his horse harder, making the stallion run faster. His cloak billowed about him. He pushed it back impatiently.

"Fion!" He shouted, trying to keep sight of his friend riding hard in front of him. But his friend would not stop. "Fion, please!"

They both raced through the woods, as was their norm from time to time when they were freed from their duties. They had always raced and bested one another. But this time, it was different. This time he knew his friend was in pain and grief.

"Fion, stop! You are going to wear down your horse!" Thranduil shouted at his normally sensible friend. But the rider in front of him did not relent. Thranduil growled in frustration and murmured to his horse to go faster.

"Fion, this has been going on for too long. You have to stop!" Thranduil shouted once more, trying to reason with his friend. Let me help you! Thranduil thought inwardly. Briefly, he considered on barging into his friend's mind and hammer down his defenses to distract him so that he could come close enough to grab his reins and stop him. But Fion was grieving and he knew doing so will only cause more damage.

Fion suddenly took a sharp turn while Thranduil was contemplating. Crying out in surprise, he brought his horse to a stop. Looking around frantically, he momentarily lost sight of his friend until he saw a dark figure fleeing in the woods. Night had fallen and the shadows had grown long. Everything seemed dark and sinister. Muttering a little under his breath, Thranduil nudged his horse into a canter.

He finally caught up with his friend when he saw his friend's horse. He momentarily panicked when he saw no rider, but he heard distinct sobs coming somewhere nearby. Thranduil dismounted, petting his horse as it bent its head to graze. Thranduil broke into a run towards the sounds.

He found his friend on the ground leaning against a tree. He was curled into himself, black locks falling over his shoulder and the broad expense of his back. His dark clothes that made it easy for him to hide in the dark forest was darker still, wet and stained with blood. The quiver was still in place but empty, since he had emptied it on his enemies. The bow was still strung and in its place. The dual knives still visible and thankfully sheathed, though Thranduil knew they were bloodied and in need of cleaning.

What mattered most that his friend needed comfort and consolation. Thranduil reached his friend and sat down beside him, touching his friend lightly on the shoulder. His heart pained him when he saw him jerk away.

"Oh, Fion," Thranduil murmured, pulling his friend into an embrace. "Hush, everything will be fine in the end."

"It won't be…"

"Aye, it will. you will see."

"They killed him. Right before me… he called out for me before they-"

"Hush." Thranduil said soothingly, rubbing his friend's arm to calm him. "Fion, it will be alright. Everything will be fine-"

"It was my fault."

"Nay, it was not."

"It was. What will I tell my wife? My daughters? It was my fault. I could have-"

"Fion, look at me." Thranduil pulled his friend away forcibly and wiped away the tears running down his face. "It was not your fault." Thranduil said sternly. "You could have done nothing. They were going to kill him whether you had raced into the clearing to save him or hid in the trees to watch. It did not matter to them either way. There was no way you could have saved him."

Fion did look at Thranduil, whose eyes met his shaky ones steadily.

"He knew I was there. He begged me to help him… I could still hear his voice-"

Thranduil pulled his friend into an embrace again, letting him cry into his shoulder.

"He was so young… he did not deserve the pain…"

"He will wait for you in the Undying Lands." Thranduil said firmly, pulling back his friend once more. "Look at me, Fion! I will not have you fade or set sail. You will stay here and I will look after you."

Fion gave a throaty laugh.

"You?"

"Aye, I!" Thranduil said tartly, making Fion smile at the curious choice of words and lean against his friend's shoulder. "You might not realize it, but I can perfectly look after you!"

"That is true." Fion replied quietly.

"I am going to see you out of this, Fion. Mark my words, I will." Thranduil said after a moment of silence.

"What of my family?"

"You will look after them just fine."

"How can I? I couldn't look after him… Just one person and you expect me to look after my family." Fresh tears fell on Thranduil's cloak.

"You can take that responsibility, Fion." Thranduil told him, stroking his friend's head. There was a sharp contrast between them. Thranduil and Fion both had sharp features, but Thranduil had fair golden hair where Fion had dense black locks. Thranduil's eyes were misty gray while Fion's was dark blue. Thranduil was tall and muscular and while Fion was definitely not lean but did not have as much muscle as Thranduil. Their friendship had arisen when Oropher and Thranduil made it to Mirkwood after the Second Kinslaying and when the city of Doriath burned. The Mirkwood Elves had taken them in, were hospitable to them and made Oropher their leader and King when he proved himself to them. Fion had been among the ones who find father and son the first time, after which both had formed an immensely strong friendship.

"You will regret it if you set sail or fade, Fion." Thranduil said quietly, making himself heard over Fion's crying. "You will regret it with all your heart. I know you. I know you will."

"I do not think I can go on-"

"You will. I will help you."

Thranduil let his friend weep in grief for a while longer before finally straightening briskly.

"Come, dry your tears." Thranduil said, getting up and pulling his friend up as he did so. "We must make it back to the city. It is too deep into the night for my liking. Orcs may be about. Come! You need a bath. You stink of orc blood."

"I cannot go back. I cannot face my wife-"

"Fion," Thranduil said, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and shaking him a little. "It was not your fault." He punctuated each word with a light shake. "For the love between us as sworn brothers, I ask you to stop blaming yourself. It was not your fault."

Thranduil looked closely at his friend, but Fion was looking away. He sighed.

"Come along," Thranduil said gently. "I have to get you back. My father will be worried what troubles his prince and his captain of Rangers have gotten into. If we linger, they will fear the worst."

The ride back to the city was subdued and quite. Thranduil shifted a little in his saddle, his full armor was like a weight on his body. His thoughts churned inside his head, where he suddenly realized what it truly meant to be a prince of Mirkwood. The two horses sensed their masters' moods and walked slowly, not straining against the reins as they usually did.

Mirkwood was beautiful in the night and in the day. The wood of the trees growing in Mirkwood were magnificent brown-black with sheen to them. Their leaves were smooth and regular, colored in dark shades of green.

The nightlife of the forest was particularly wondrous, though strangers to the forest would find it mysterious and frightening. A beautiful cry of a silver hawk sounded somewhere deep in the tree. They heard an owl on their left, a rabbit scurrying about the bushes on their right. Throughout the ride, Fion sat hunched on his horse, not raising his head, his shoulders lowered as if bearing a great burden.

They reached the city of Mirkwood elves some two hours later. It was not heavily fortified but it was adequately armed. The trees had dense leaves which rustled slightly, the only movement of the sentries at attention among their branches. Thranduil glanced at his friend and sighed. Reaching forward, he grabbed his friend's reins from his hands. Fion did not resist. Knowing nothing else could be done, Thranduil slowly led his friend's horse with his own.

The walls of the city were high and thick, their gates were the same height. Windows were carved out in the walls, from which the guards kept a close eye on the surroundings of their city. They heard shouts as the guards ordered the gates to open.

The gates rumbled as they opened slowly, scraping on the ground. Thranduil did not stop and wait. Instead he led his and his friend's horses through the small opening made in between the gates.

Outside the gates, the city looked wondrous. Inside the city gates, it was more wondrous. The trees were tall, with staircases winding around the tree stems and ending in a house high up in the branches in the same fashion as the city of Lothlorien. The main difference between the city of Mirkwood and that of Lothlorien was in the design as well as the color. Mirkwood was in dark shades of black and brown, adding to its mysterious beauty that the native elves loved. Lothlorien was grey and gold, changing the colors in autumn and winter.

Thranduil rode into the open space leading to the main building standing in the very center of the city. The building had no name, which was sad because it was a work of art. There were intricate designs on the windows and doors of the building and it was not high up in a tree like the other buildings. It was built on the ground level, with three trees inside it. The roof was beautifully made in arches, spiraling around the tree. It could be entered through a small, wide set of staircases at the front that led to a platform and double doors. Thranduil saw his father standing at the foot of the multiple staircases, a questioning look on his face when their eyes met.

Thranduil shook his head.

Oropher's look turned into a mixture of sadness, resignation and understanding. Fion glanced up from his hunched position and abruptly nudged his horse to a stop.

"I can't." He said.

"I understand, Fion." Thranduil said. "You can go and meet your family first. My father will not mind."

Fion swallowed and nodded. Thranduil handed his reins back to him.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Thranduil asked.

"Nay!" He said. "This is something I must do alone."

Thranduil watched his friend lead his horse away, feeling helpless. He had never felt this distant from his friend before. Turning his head, he still found his father waiting patiently at the foot of the staircase.

"Father!" Thranduil said when he approached him, dismounting when he had his stallion stop.

"What happened?" Oropher asked, running an experienced eye over his son. Thranduil knew he was looking for any lumps that showed hastily-bound bandages. Thranduil could not blame him; his armor was bloody, though he was not injured.

"I am fine." Thranduil told him. Oropher raised an eyebrow. "Really, I am fine, father." Thranduil insisted. "There were too many of them. They had no intentions on letting him go. They only called us out to make a statement. They said they will kill all elves in the same way."

"How is he?" Oropher asked, glancing at the direction Fion had taken.

"Not so good." Thranduil replied, eyes darkening. "He is beside himself with grief. He is not injured. But his grief and lust for revenge made him stronger and unsusceptible to injury. I had managed to get him away before he went mad but then he took off on his horse and I had to chase him down. That was what took us so long. I must have been trying to catch up with him for at least an hour and a half."

"He was trying to get away from you." Oropher murmured.

"That was foolish." Thranduil retorted. "I was not about to give up."

"Something that I am not proud of you, my son, but only in this event will I be thankful for your stubborn nature." Oropher said. "Thranduil, tell me. Was there anything different about the orcs?"

Thranduil frowned. "They were cocky and proud, like they were when Morgoth was their leader. And they seemed organized, as if it was already planned. After Morgoth had been imprisoned, the orcs were scattered and confused. Now it seems as if-" Thranduil trailed off.

"As if?" Oropher prodded.

"As if they had a new master." Thranduil said. Oropher breathed in deeply. "Father, what if Morgoth had a lesser lord as his subordinate? What if, with Morgoth gone, another evil had risen?"

Thranduil studied his father's face intently. Oropher was working his jaw periodically, his face tight and grim.

"You do not want to believe it." Thranduil noted. Oropher gave a bitter laugh.

"No one wants to believe that there is another evil, Thranduil. But I think you may be right." Oropher brought his son close, his words only for his son's ear. "If that is so, then this city that I had so lovingly built is inadequate for the coming fight. We must move elsewhere."

"It cannot come to that!"

"It may, Thranduil, it may. I have been thinking that we shift our city to a more secure place, but I leave that task up to. You do not need to work on it immediately tonight, but I need you to find a safer place to shift our people."

Thranduil raised his head and met his father's eyes. They were identical in every way, to the point that they were often mistaken as brothers. They had the same build, the same eye color and hair color. Both had the touch of unspoken sadness about them, but Oropher seemed more mature and wiser because his many years of experience.

"Now," Oropher said, voice softening and sounding more like a father than a king. "I want you to clean up and eat and rest. And you have someone waiting for you, who was very much anxious when no news came for so long." Oropher tilted his head meaningfully.

Glancing up, he saw a she-elf standing at the middle of the staircase. She wore robes of brilliant gold. Her black hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She had soft facial features that she wore in a pleasant expression. There was admittedly a hint of impatience in her posture.

"Arodien," Thranduil said, recognizing his wife.

"You gave many of us quite the scare by taking so long." Oropher remarked. Only then did he notice many, many wood-elves all standing close by in curiosity. Many looked relieved to see that their prince was back and well but others knew what it meant that only two had returned. Some feet away from where they were standing was Thorontur, who was Oropher's head advisor. The elf kept a blank expression, waiting patiently for the king to turn and speak with him.

"Did you not recover the body?" Oropher asked, drawing his son's attention back to him.

"Nay, we could not." Thranduil said. "They- they threw the body into the river to apply salt on an open wound. That was what tipped Fion over."

"I see. Now go and rest. I will speak to our people and then go to Fion."

"Is it wise to go to him now?"

"I am his king, Thranduil. He must know that I am here to support him. After all, he is one of our most promising Rangers. You," Oropher added, prodding his son's chest with his finger, "will go up and sooth your wife. You had her at her wit's end."

"I will, I will."

"I am glad you are well, Thranduil." Oropher said briskly, nodding and then turning to speak to his people. Thranduil climbed up the stairs towards his wife.

"Is it true?" She asked in greeting when he reached him. "Is he-"

"He is dead." Thranduil said. "We came too late."

Arodien's lips trembled, her eyes wide in horror.

"You should not be here in your condition. You needn't have known-"

"I am not sick, Thranduil. Only with child." She said briskly, her hands moving to straighten his collar on their own accord. Thranduil placed his hands on her wrists, stopping her.

"I am fine." Thranduil murmured. "I am not the one hurt."

"It could have been you. It could have been our child."

"I will not have you speak like this." Thranduil said firmly. Arodien bit her lower lip.

"Will he be alright?"

"Fion?" Thranduil asked. His wife nodded.

Thranduil sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you seen the trees once the wildfire burns the forest?"

"Never."

"I have." Thranduil said, turning his head as he remembered memories that were bitter.

"When the sons of Feanor marched to the city of Doriath, my beloved city and homeland, they had torched the trees as they passed them by. And when the trees are torched, their wood dies and breaks off in ashes. But the core, the very center of the tree that is capable of regrowth remains intact. It hardens after the fire but it is still alive."

"And Fion will have the scars of this night." Arodien said, understanding dawning.

"But he will change." Thranduil said, his eyes still seeing something that not there and only existed in memory. Arodien touched him lightly, bringing him out of his thoughts. "And he may not change for the best."

"Is there anything we can do for him?"

"Not at the moment, nay, there is nothing. And perhaps we will not be able to help. Sometimes only one or two people can be of healing. And even they are hard to find."

"What healed you after you had come to the forest when you fled Doriath in the Second Kinslaying?" Arodien asked, guiding her husband up the steps.

"Marriage," Thranduil said dryly with a hint of humor. "As my father had put it, it tamed me and made me see the better side of life. I personally call it slavery."

Arodien slapped him hard on his shoulder. Thranduil laughed lightly, but his smile did not reach his eyes that still looked worried for his friend. Deciding to use another tactic to bring a smile on her husband's face, she thought to reveal a secret she had kept with her for a while. Stopping at the large ornate doors, she took his hands in hers.

"It is a boy." She whispered. Thranduil frowned for a moment in confusion. But when the meaning set in, he looked surprised.

"How do you know?"

"I am a mother, Thranduil. I know." Thranduil rubbed her hands in wonder.

"Have you thought of a name?" Thranduil asked.

"I thought I should leave that to you."

"There is one that does interest me."

"What is it?"

"Legolas."

"Greenleaf? But why?"

"For many reasons," Thranduil said, glancing once at the pathway Fion had taken. "For many reasons."

Of that night, they never spoke of the unfortunate event again. And as for Fion, Thranduil watched him with a heavy heart. Fion took care of his family but he was never the same after that.

Some hurts take time in healing. Others need something, or someone, to heal them.

**~S~**

**Author's Note:**

This is, or was, unexpected. It was an idea that I had going. Tell me what you think. I had always wondered about Legolas' beginnings and I know there are many stories out there already but not all of them have some, if not all, of the facts. Some picture Legolas' childhood as dark and some go for too childish. I am looking for an 'in between', shall we say. There is more to the plotline which will reveal itself in time.

So this was an idea that was going because I was reading about the Second Age and it mentioned Sauron as Annatar and how Gandalf and Elrond did not trust him, and I thought, "What about Mirkwood? What was going on over there?"

So tell me what it is like and I will continue it. :)

**Some facts:**

**Legolas' Age: **It is disputed but in the Fangorn Forest, he remarked that the forest is so old that he almost felt young again. Fangorn Forest was made somewhere at the end of the First Age to the beginning of Second Age. So this story takes place after that.

**Oropher's Origins: **It is said that both Oropher and Thranduil had lived in the city of Doriath and had then fled its ruins in the Second Kinslaying. Oropher and Celeborn were distantly related to King Thingol of Doriath.

**Legolas' Origins: **The mother of Legolas is always a disputed topic. Some say that she was a Silvan elf, others say she was a Sindarin elf. I am making her a Mirkwood elf, so Legolas will be half-Silvan, half-Sindarin. I am not debating on his hair, because that usually leaves me with a headache. :P

**List of OCs:**

Fion: Elf. Ranger. He is Thranduil's close friend.

Thorontur: Elf. Warrior. He is also Oropher's head advisor.

Arodien: Elf. She is Thranduil's wife and Legolas' mother.

The city of Mirkwood: This is the city I created and it is before Thranduil's Halls.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**Criticism: **Constructive criticism is welcome but no flames please.

**Reviews: **Readers can review as anonymous as well.

**Content: **Prologue was the only darker chapter. The future chapters will be much lighter but some will have darker content. I will add warnings for such chapters.

**~S~**

**Chapter 1**

_Twenty years later…_

The two she-elves sat comfortably in the sitting. One of them was reclining on her couch, her needle weaving in and out of a shirt expertly. The other sat on a chair with her feet resting on a footstool, reading an open book on her lap.

The one who was reading glanced up from her book, her eyes falling on the she-elf with her shirt.

"You always seem to be mending shirts whenever I come to your rooms, Arodien." She observed, watching in a bit of an awe as her friend's needle wove in and out of the shirt.

"My husband is a little hard on his clothes whenever he goes out to practice, Milwen." Arodien replied coolly.

"Hm, interesting. I do hope you do not use that as an excuse to have something to do with his clothing." Milwen replied cheekily. Arodien coughed in alarm.

"Milwen!"

"It does make some sense. I would probably be doing the same!"

"Milwen!"

"Well, when you two had your child, I was thinking that you certainly took your time."

"Milwen!"

"Still a prude, as always." Milwen observed, laughing as she closed her book and got up from her seat.

"There is a difference between being a prude and being private." Arodien told her, her cheeks slightly tinged pink as she finally set down Thranduil's shirt on her lap.

Milwen laughed. "It is wonderful to spend time with you, Arodien, but come! Tell me of your son. How does he fare?"

"He fares very well." Arodien replied, swinging her feet to the floor and getting up. She embedded her needle into the cloth of the shirt, intending to finish later. Walking over to a nearby desk she usually used for keeping her sewing, she placed the shirt there, saying, "He is quite an inquisitive youngling."

"I hear he is quite the mischief maker as well."

Arodien laughed. "Aye, he is! But I assure it does not come from my side of the family. King Oropher insists that Legolas is the splitting image of his father! Thranduil tries to deny it of course but King Oropher was merciless when he spoke of tales that Thranduil was keeping from me."

"You must have seen him in a different light then."

Arodien's light blue eyes glittered in amusement. "Indeed, I did. But tell me, how is your son, Dorián?"

"He is doing very well." There was great pride in Milwen's voice. "He has been taken into apprenticeship with the Rangers."

Arodien started in surprise. "Is he? But Dorián is five years younger than Legolas!"

Milwen hesitated but kept her smile, though it was a little less pronounced. "Well, the Rangers had seen promise in him, and he was taken in by them."

Arodien turned back to her sewing desk, hands going out for her husband's shirt on their own accord as she thought deeply. Everyone knew that at fifteen years, the male younglings are chosen for different orders in the army. All of them were taught to fight, though they are made experts in one thing than the other.

When Oropher became king, the first two things he had done were to make a city wondrous in sight and the other was to strengthen his army. The two most elite forces of the Mirkwood Army, were the Warriors and the Rangers. They were held in great prestige and honor. Anyone can join them but only few were able to make it up to a qualified rank. They had a hard training, and harsher lifestyle to live with. Oropher and Thranduil both were Warriors. Arodien had expected her son to join the Warrior ranks. Legolas did, but soon his mentor returned him with apologies.

"He has shown no interest." He had said. And thus, Legolas was late in joining any sort of order and still played in their living quarters.

And Milwen had left all of this unsaid. Everyone knew that the heir of Thranduil had not yet taken any field to be apprenticed in.

"Arodien," Milwen said hesitantly. "He cannot stay playing in your rooms for long."

"I will not have you tell me what my son should or should not do." Arodien said coldly, placing the folded shirt back on the desk.

"Do not be ridiculous!" Milwen retorted. "Your son needs to learn how to arm and defend himself. He is an heir-"

"And why should he be the one to fight while others can fight as well?" Arodien asked, whipping her head about to glare at her childhood friend. Milwen only looked back steadily, with a hint of stubbornness in her manner as well.

"So that he has something to protect. You know this. Your son is much more inquisitive than any other youngling I have seen. He needs something to occupy him." Milwen replied and then placed her hands on Arodien's shoulders. "Arodien, you cannot protect him forever."

Arodien's lips trembled lightly. "How can you stand it?" She whispered. "How can you stand seeing your son go with the Rangers?"

Milwen's brow furrowed slightly as she genuinely considered the question. "I do not know. It is easy at the moment." She said at last. "Dorián is merely learning for now. In future, perhaps, it may not be easy. But I know he has the ability of doing great things. I will not stop him. Arodien," Milwen said, forcing her friend to look at her. "We have known each other for years. I can tell you this. Your son is ready."

Arodien gave a small laugh, though it was a little weak. "You are advising me? Do you not remember that I was more even-headed than you, while you fell romantically over one and then the other?"

"Well, clearly, your even-headedness was lost when I certain someone came to our forest." Milwen said, taking up Arodien's hand by her first finger and glancing once at the ornate ring before looking at Arodien meaningfully. Amusement died off and then Milwen said, "Everyone has a moment of weakness, Arodien. But I think you should know that your son is ready."

Arodien nodded slowly. Then she frowned in suspicion. "Who put you up to this?"

"Arodien-"

"Was it Thranduil?" She asked, snatching back her hand.

"He only meant-"

"That sneaky, pointy-eared, proud, self-centered-"

"All of the traits that you love." Milwen could not help pointing out. Arodien looked furious and Milwen knew it was time to take her leave.

"I had best put this book back in the Library." Milwen said hurriedly, going over to her side table and picking up her book. "I will return soon." She said. _When you have cooled down, _she added silently.

Arodien, on the other hand, paid her no notice. She paced the floor slowly, muttering words about her husband and his meddling. Milwen shook her head and hid a smile as she had left.

Thranduil's marriage with Arodien had been one of a kind. It had become one of the fondest stories told and retold among the elves. When Oropher and Thranduil had come to Mirkwood, they were dark and grim. Oropher had been silent, as he lost his wife in the Kinslaying, and Thranduil seemed distant and cold. It had come as a surprise when they had shed their grave manner after the First Age ended. While Oropher was still regarded in awe, Thranduil had warmed the hearts of Mirkwood elves instantly. They accepted him as one of their own when he married Arodien, who was then a proud she-elf but that was not a flaw. And while the couple never really showed any romance outwardly in public, the elves knew full well that they were in love.

And yet Arodien had become too protective of her son. The story of Fion losing his son twenty years earlier had spread among the people, in all the three cities of Mirkwood. Elflings were not allowed to leave the city except in the presence of one parent each and with guards. Rumors have it that Oropher and Thranduil were also planning something else to protect them and increase the security.

What she did know for certain was that the youngest member of the line of Oropher had had enough of his mother's instinctive protectiveness and the monotonous lifestyle of the city. It must have been stifling for him, and knowing the fact that other elflings of his age were already apprentices for five years must be wearying. It was time for Legolas to leave the nest, Milwen decided. Apprenticeship had a thrill of its own, and Legolas' nature needed the challenge. Arodien has seen to that, Milwen made sure of it. But now, the question still remains; who will take him in? The Warriors have already declined, polite though they were. Legolas showed no interest in their strict protocol and code of honor. But Milwen expected as much. Warrior life was too strict for someone who loved bending the rules to his advantage.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not see someone running directly towards her. Milwen gave out a sharp cry as someone painfully collided into her. she and her assaulter both stumbled, her book falling from her grasp. Whoever crashed into her immediately grabbed her, trying to steady her as he too sought his own balance. Thankfully they did not fall on the floor in an undignified heap.

Milwen felt him pull away and straightened one hand on her elbow to make sure she does not falter as well. She straightened steadily, pulling her arm out of his grasp in a way to show she was fine. Looking up, she saw that it was none other Legolas Thranduilion.

He was fair and pleasant to look upon. He was his father's image, from the hair all the way to his height. But he had inherited Arodien's eye shape and color as well as his leaner frame. Dressed in light shoes, brown breeches and shirt and tunic that went all the way to his knee, he looked royal but very young. He had an air of mischief about him, as if he was looking for trouble. Apparently he had, as he kept looking over his shoulder and shifting his weight in impatiene.

"Lady Milwen!" He greeted her. "I had not expected to see you."

Milwen stooped to pick up her book and casually straightened her lightly colored gown.

"I had not expected to run into you, young prince." She said, stressing on the words 'run into'. Much to her amusement, Legolas did not pick up on her words and kept looking back. Letting her voice show her amusement, she asked, "Is there some sort of a trouble, Legolas, my child?"

"Nay, Lady Milwen." Legolas stopped and added as a change of thought. "Actually, your son is trying to get to me. Can you grant me refuge?"

Milwen only laughed. Just then, Dorián rounded on the corner.

"Legolas! I will get you for this!"

Groaning, Legolas broke into a run, scrambling for safety. Dorián ran after him.

"Dorián, what have you done?" Milwen called after her son as he raced past her.

"Nothing, mother. I swear!" Dorián's voice faded as he turned around the corner, causing the rug to turn over in his haste. Milwen laughed quietly and turned around the corner.

She knew full well that the elves working in the vicinity will be quite thankful when Dorián returned to the Ranger's Circle- and when Legolas is finally apprenticed in something.

oOo

"Legolas!" Dorián shouted furiously, catching the sight of his friend scrambling up the stairs to run from him. "You cannot hide forever!"

"Watch me!" Legolas shouted back.

Dorián sped up the stairs, the few months he had spent in the Ranger's Circle was already changing his figure. The flabby limbs were firming slightly, and the little of the training he had was starting to play in his mind, giving him suggestion. Dorián smiled in satisfaction. He was starting to learn.

Almost at once, he could hear his mentor's dry voice sarcastically pointing out that what knowledge he had was nothing compared to the many qualified and famous Rangers, and his pride deflated.

He reached the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. The corridors were open. A fence ran on one side and rooms opened on the other side. The building was built in a square shape, with a garden growing right in between it. The first floor had council rooms, the Library, and the throne room along with two or three adjoined rooms for banquets. The second floor had living quarters. The garden had three tall trees, amid the flowers and the bushes. It was called the Lovers' Garden. King Oropher had named it as a jest, causing many elves to laugh whenever they say the name, though Dorián did not understand what it was about.

Turning his thoughts to the task at hand, he looked about for his friend. Legolas had disappeared. Deciding his friend was in one of the rooms, he ran through the corridors, taking care to tread lightly when he passed Arodien's rooms. He did not want Legolas' mother catching him!

He found the door of Legolas' room a little open and felt triumphant. Smiling in glee, he opened it and walked in.

It was a mistake.

No sooner than he stepped inside, Legolas pulled him in and close the door behind him. The two young elves lost their balance and fell.

"I knew you would come in." Legolas said triumphantly, sitting on top of Dorián on his ribcage.

"Get your weight off of me!" Dorián yelped. Grabbing his friend's elbow, Dorián pulled him down and sideways. Rolling over, he sat down on Legolas' hip. He kept a firm grip on Legolas' wrists.

"Do you yield?"

"Aye."

Satisfied, Dorián let go. Almost at once, Legolas threw him over and resumer sitting on him.

"That was cheating! You said you yielded!"

"I did not say that." Legolas replied innocently. "I only said 'aye'!"

Dorián snorted and struggled. "Get off!"

"Do you yield?" Legolas asked him. Dorián stopped with a glint in his eye.

"Aye."

"I am not falling for that." Legolas said, laughing. "Do you yield?"

Dorián sighed in resignation.

"Aye, I yield."

Legolas rolled off, lying beside Dorián on the floor. The two panted, trying to catch their breaths from the exertion.

"I still hate you for what you put me through." Dorián said, breaking the silence.

"I apologize! But I could think of nothing else!"

"You got me into trouble with the cook!"

"He was asking who ate his pie, Dorián!"

"You told him it was me!"

"It was true!"

"Legolas!"

"Well, you had to admit, it was fun watching him go red and sputter."

"And see him waving his rolling pin in the air." Dorián finished, remembering the mental image. The two young elves glanced at each other before bursting out laughing.

"I missed you, Dorián!" Legolas said genuinely. "How long can you stay this time?"

"It is only the first time I am back from the Ranger's Circle, Legolas." Dorián replied. "I will only be here for two more days."

"But you came here yesterday!"

"I am an apprentice now, Legolas. I have to do what my mentor tells me to."

Legolas was quiet after that.

"You are not thinking that you are not apprentice, are you?" Dorián could not help asking, turning his pale blue eyes to rest on his friend. Legolas was staring up at the ceiling.

"Father is worried." Legolas said quietly. "He thinks I should have something by now. He does not blame me but he feels I should have stayed with the Warriors."

"Why did you not?"

"Everything was too straightforward! Where is the fun in that? Where is the charm of being an apprentice when all you do is hit a wooden statue with a stick?"

Dorián only touched his friend's elbow in silent sympathy.

"Have you ever had that feeling now that you are an apprentice?" Legolas asked, turning his head to meet Dorián's gaze, his usually mischievous blue eyes solemn.

"Never," Dorián replied truthfully. "Then again, my mentor does not really give me time to think about anything."

"Who is your mentor, anyway?" Legolas asked, furrowing his brow. He never thought to ask Dorián that question before now.

"Fion."

"Fion?" Legolas asked in disbelief, getting up in his surprise. " 'The' Fion?" He added.

"Aye," Dorián replied.

"But-but- what horror, Dorián! Quick! Run while you still can!"

"He is not that bad-" Dorián tried to defend feebly.

"Have you seen the way he looks at others? He looks like one of father's hungry hounds that will tear a piece of meat to shreds!"

"I would argue but you are right." Dorián replied, sitting up as well. "But he is not so bad, at least while he is teaching. It is before and after teaching you have to be aware of."

"What is it like?" Legolas asked, curiously. "Being a Ranger's apprentice?"

Dorián frowned as he searched for a suitable comparison.

"Do you remember how we used to skip using the staircases whenever we wanted to go up one of the trees of the city and we used the branches instead?"

"Aye."

"And everyone used to be worried that we would fall but we did not? When we finally reached the top, we had both enjoyed the danger and the success that came after it." Dorián lay back on the floor. "It feels like that."

"That must be a nice feeling." Legolas said, lying back as well.

"Aye, it is."

They were silent for a moment, then Legolas said, "Are you sure you want to go back with Fion? I can hide you under my bed and feed you scraps from the feast every night."

"Legolas!"

"What? I was only trying to help."

Dorián burst out laughing.

"Come on!" he said, getting up. "I had best spend some time with mother otherwise she will never let me leave."

"What do I have to do with it?"

"I do not know." Dorián said, shrugging as he watched Legolas get up as well. "Somebody has to keep your mother company while I talk to my mother, now, hasn't it?"

oOo

He found his mother sitting on the bench in the Lovers' Garden, her fingers tracing the black petals of flower with a red middle. She had a soft smile on her face, as if remembering something.

"Mother?" He asked quietly, touching her shoulder.

"Legolas!" Arodien said, drawing out of her memories as she looked up at him. her soft smile was still on her face. "How are you, youngling?"

"I am well. What are you doing here?"

"I was just remembering," Arodien said vaguely. Then her smile widened into a knowing smile. "I have heard that you and Dorián got into trouble with the cook."

Legolas' cheeks pinked.

"Well," he stuttered. "It was just a misunderstanding."

"Pies, Legolas?"

"Well, we were hungry!"

"Hush," Arodien murmured, waving a hand to dismiss the topic before drawing her son into her arms. "I want to show you something. Come and sit close to me, my son. There you go. Now, I want you to keep quiet and listen."

Legolas looked up at his mother curiously. What was he supposed to listen, he wondered. Arodien smiled a little when their eyes met. Legolas had inherited her eye color and her leaner frame, but everything else was like his father's. Arodien held his eyes until he turned away, biting his lower lip in concentration.

"I hear nothing." He complained after a short while.

"Oh, little one, you were not supposed to be hearing a sound! Now open your mind and listen."

Open his mind, he can do that. Thranduil had noticed Legolas had inherited his ability to open his mind and feel other people's presences. He taught the child, who quickly learned the skill. While Legolas was too young to actually invade other mind or defend his own, he was certainly strong enough to feel other presences.

And it all opened up to him like a wondrous new world. The humming of the trees as they moved and rustled in the wind, the animals and the birds actually speaking to one another, and even the stones that lay upon the ground, he heard them all.

Arodien watched, smiling in an unveiled delight as her son's eyes darted this way and that in a new understanding of his surroundings.

"What do you think?"

"They all speak, mother." Legolas murmured, his eyes still looking about him in wonder.

"Aye, they do." She murmured just as quietly, lightly resting her head on top of her son's. "And that is a part of the ability you have taken after me. Use it well, and honor the lives around you."

Legolas nodded distractedly, his eyes still darting here and there as he listened to newer sounds. Arodien, still resting her head on her son's, closed her eyes.

You are ready, she thought inwardly. She wrapped her arms around her son, rubbing his arms with her hands.

**~S~**

**Author's Note:**

So Chapter 1 of "Green Leaves" officially starts.

This is a completely different type of writing because I have to create a whole lot of things here.

You might be thinking that I am going against canon but I am not going against it at all. For one thing, we are some five hundred years into Second Age. Also, Mirkwood is thriving at the moment because Sauron has not fully shown himself yet.

And also, we know very little about Mirkwood. So I have to create some things (ok, a lot of things) to add content and give sense to the story.

The picture of the canon Mirkwood will rise in the later chapters.

**Some facts:**

**Elf Childhood: **It is said that an elfling can sing and dance by the age of one. At the age of twenty, their growth slows down but they still look like a seven-year-old mortal child. However, their minds have matured and are 'wise' because of their age.

**Oropher's Lineage: **There is no record of who his father was, so I have kept him as one of the first elves to have awakened in Arda. Now, this is how I have explained him; he had lingered behind in Arda and then stayed under King Thingol's rule. There he married and Thranduil was born in Doriath. Oropher and Thranduil both travelled to Mirkwood after the Second Kinslaying.

**Elrond: **Since we are in the Second Age, Elrond has not married. Thus (yes, you are reading correctly), the twins and Arwen are not yet born and Legolas is older than them in my fic.

**List of OCs:**

Fion: Elf. Ranger. He is Thranduil's close friend and Dorian's mentor.

Milwen: Elf. Noble. She is Dorian's mother and Arodien's friend.

Arodien: Elf. Married Royal. She is Thranduil's wife and Legolas' mother.

Dorian: Elf. Ranger Apprentice. He is Legolas' friend.

**Replies to reviews: (So I posted the chapter and forgot to reply to reviews. Sorry. -.-)**

emi: Hi! (sorry, I got real excited when I saw your review :D)

I am glad you read it. It really really made me happy lol. I thought to tell you I was writing this but I got shy and stayed quiet, lol.

I would tell you more but I want to see what you think of this chapter. :D

Lomelindi: Hi, :D. Well, Thranduil's is not young actually. In my fic, he was born mid-First Age.

You know, it was tempting to find a way _not _to write Oropher into the fic but being a canon lover, it did not suit with me, lol. :D

To be honest, I was a little nervous when I posted this chapter. I never wrote this much detail before, not even with OTWAB. So the compliment means a lot. :)

Ilovevollyball: I knew you were going to be my first reviewer, I just knew it! :D

Well, you commented that the characters worked and I am really glad to hear it. :D

Pizza with pepperoni please. ;)


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Thranduil sighed as he put down his papers and glanced out of the window. He saw his wife and son sitting in the garden which he utterly refused to take its name, talking and enjoying the scenery. He glanced around the study, where numerous reports were waiting to be read. Across him, his father sat on his desk, immersed into reports. Thorontur sat a little further apart at his own desk, quiet and non-intruding as always.

Thranduil growled deep in his throat.

"Are you hungry, Thranduil?" Oropher asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Nay, father." Thranduil replied, looking down at his work again.

"Perhaps the prince is finding the work to tedious for his taste and manner." Thorontur said coolly from his place, his voice mocking him. Thranduil gritted his teeth.

"Perhaps the advisor would mind his own business while handling his share of reports." Thranduil retorted. He heard his father give a defeated sigh.

"Enough," Oropher said wearily. "Cease your differences for the time being and try to work together while in this study at the very least."

"Two different elements cannot coexist in one tight place, Sire." Thorontur said serenely.

"In my study, they will." Oropher said firmly. "Thorontur, I hope you are breaking down the reports that need my attention and the one that do not. And Thranduil, come here and tell me what news you have from the sentries and the Rangers."

Thranduil got up from his seat, thankful to finally have an excuse to leave his desk even to just walk to the other side of the room. He grabbed the reports he had read and went over to his father.

"They make for a strange reading, father." Thranduil told him, holding out the reports. Oropher took them, frowning.

"How so?" he asked.

"I think it would be better if you read them yourself."

"Obviously the prince does not know how to summarize reports, Sire." Thorontur spoke up. "Perhaps you should have left that to me."

Irritated, Thranduil opened his mouth to retaliate.

"You will keep your silence." Oropher told his son sternly. "And Thorontur, I expect you to keep your silence as well from this point onward. I have enough on my hands without the two of you antagonizing in my presence."

The two elves looked considerably chastened. Oropher shook his head and muttered under his breath as he ran his eyes over the reports. He quickly read all of them and sighed when he was done.

"It does make a strange reading, does it not?" Thranduil asked, seeing the look on his father's face.

"It does indeed."

"Perhaps, it is only a passing fancy of the orcs?"

"Yes, but it still does not make any sense." Oropher said, sounding irritated. "It has been twenty years, Thranduil. Whoever is commanding the orcs is certainly not showing himself, but the orcs have become too cocky for my liking. Teasing the sentries by coming close to the cities, killing stray soldiers here and there, capturing other soldiers and archers… but for what? What do they have to gain from all of this?" Oropher threw the papers back on his table and got up, making the chair slightly topple as he did so. He placed one hand on the chair before it lost its balance. Setting the chair straight, he walked up to a window facing the city. Thranduil got up to join him, discretely aware of Thorontur silently leaving the study with a few papers in hand.

"I think you scared Thorontur away." Thranduil said dryly.

"He will be back." Oropher replied dismissively. Then, he sighed. To Thranduil, his father seemed to have aged.

"I do not want this land to become the City of Doriath." Oropher murmured.

"It will not."

"It can be possible."

"For sanity's sake, father," Thranduil reproached. "Let it go! We cannot have Doriath's fate shadowing every move we make! You need to understand that. I will not have you wither away in this study because you worry too much."

"Do I?" Oropher murmured thoughtfully. "You tell me to stay my fears and yet in my heart, I know there awaits a fate for us. Good or evil, I do not know. But the path to it will define our reaction to our fate."

"You are old," Thranduil muttered under his breath. "Speaking like the first elves awoken under the light of the stars at night."

"That is because I am one of them, youngling." Oropher replied. "And do not retort your own father!"

"I will do as I please to draw you out of your pensive mood." Thranduil retorted. "It has been twenty years since-" Thranduil abruptly stopped and coughed uncomfortably. "You speak as if threats wait around the corner."

"Perhaps not around the corner." Oropher conceded. "But it is there."

"Then why bode ill feelings for it now? Why not enjoy the precious time we have left?"

"So that we burn in the end? Nay, my son, I do not wish it for my people. I want them safe and secure now and even then. Tell me, how does your search for a suitable fortress go?"

Thranduil grimaced.

"You had to bring that up."

"Thranduil-"

"We found so many places over the years but none of them are suitable." Thranduil said, turning around and walking up to a desk that held an open map and scattered documents. He pushed away the documents impatiently and pointed out the already marked places on the map.

"This one is well surrounded by dead weeds and plants, and has a high ground. No enemy could move towards it without causing a racket moving through the plants. But it is too far and not safe enough from the elements. This one," Thranduil's finger tapped on another point. "This one is well covered and concealed by trees but in the dark, we will be in a disadvantage."

"You are very difficult in picking a spot, my son."

"Because none of them suits your most basic need." Thranduil retorted. "You said you wanted a place where you can bring 'all' of your people together in shelter."

"And-"

"I found no such place. I doubt it even exists."

"There has to be a place adequate enough."

Thranduil breathed heavily through his nose. Oropher noticed and clapped his son's shoulder.

"I am not calling your rides a waste," Oropher told him. "In fact, you have corrected some of the inaccuracies we had on our maps. But we still need a place, Thranduil."

"I will look into it." Thranduil replied with resignation.

"See to it that you do. Now what have the Rangers spoken about? I recall seeing their letter here somewhere." Oropher turned to his desk, fingers deftly sorting through and discarding letters.

"And you call my desk messy." Thranduil muttered.

"It is messy." Oropher replied evenly. "Ah, here we are."

He tugged the protruding corner of parchment from the stack of papers. The movement caused the stack to lose balance, but Oropher's quick reflexes helped him catch it with one graceful sweep.

"They are offering an idea about their supplies."

"Supplies?"

"They always had the problem of carting supplies to the Rangers on duty."

"Ah, I remember now."

Oropher ran his eyes over the contents. The letter was long and it consists of several parchments, and Oropher once again searched his table for the missing pieces before successfully brandishing them forward.

"The idea is underground storage rooms scattered around the forest." Oropher said, frowning. "That is not a bad idea."

"How will they make it?" Thranduil said, also frowning. "Making rooms right under earth."

"It has been done before."

"Under rock, father, not under earth."

"Do not underestimate these wood-elves. They never will cease to amaze you." Oropher said as he read on. "This is a good idea. I must send a reply to them so they can send one of the Commanders here to discuss it." Suddenly, the look on the king's face changed.

"What is it?" Thranduil asked when he noticed.

"I wonder if we can make an underground fortress." Oropher said slowly. "By using the same idea as the Rangers' except at a larger scale."

But Thranduil shook his head.

"You cannot widen a cavern under earth to that degree. And we need firm pillars for it. And what of air? We need to breathe. An underground storage room can have an air exchange through the trapdoor but for an entire fortress, we need more than just a few outlets to breathe."

"Hm," Oropher said, conceding to the point. "Still, it would have been marvelous if possible."

_Underground, underground, _Thranduil thought distractedly as he turned to walk to his desk. _That is not such a bad idea._

"Where are Arodien and Legolas?" Oropher's question broke into his thoughts.

"in the garden." Thranduil replied shortly, still immersed in his thoughts.

"What garden?" Oropher asked, startled. Then, his voice had a dark texture to it. "Not the Lovers' Garden?"

Thranduil groaned inwardly.

"Father, let it be."

"Let what be?" Oropher's voice sounded innocent. Thranduil refused to turn, knowing full well his father probably had a sly smile on his face.

"It was years ago. And I was going to tell you-"

"You had a good way of telling me." Oropher said, chuckling. "There I was, tired after rows of council meetings and I find my son in a certain garden when he excused himself because he was suffering from a 'migraine' while in reality, he and a certain maiden-"

"Father-"

"Well, I apologize to disturb something so important but really, Thranduil, one would have chosen a more discrete spot-"

"Father!" Thranduil turned to glare at the king, who relaxed in his chair.

"And then you and that certain maiden got married in that very same garden-"

"Father, please!"

"I find it surprising and ironic that you still refuse to name that garden."

"You had to name it-"

"I dubbed it because it sounded appropriate." Oropher said, chuckling.

"And turned it into a running joke."

"Oh, the wood-elves do not seem to mind, if that is what worries you."

"Just- do not tell Legolas about this when he grows older."

"Oh, I will."

"Father!"

"He should know how in love his parents were." Oropher said, waving a hand to dismiss the matter. Then he got up and went to the windows facing the city.

"Your mother would be happy for you." Oropher said, smile fading as he looked out of the window. "she would have wanted you to be loved and in love, with a family waiting for you. Trust me, my son, when I say this. Treasure your moments while you still can. Time can take people apart far too quickly."

Thranduil walked over his father and embraced him. Oropher absently patted his son's head, his eyes looking at something far and out of reach. Then Thranduil pulled away.

"Come." Thranduil said, suddenly turning and walking towards the door. Turning back, he saw his father still standing by the window with his hands now clasped behind his back. "Come." He repeated.

"Where are we going?" Oropher asked, walking to him.

"I am going to help you lose your melancholy." Thranduil explained.

"It had better not be a hunt." Oropher said wryly, knowing how much his son loved to hunt.

"Oh, it is not that. We are going to play with our swords." Thranduil said, opening the door for his father to exit first. He tried not to gulp when he saw a gleam in his father's pale eyes.

"Really, my son?" Oropher asked, lips curling upwards slowly. "You dare challenge me?"

"That would be correct." Thranduil mumbled. Oropher laughed loudly, placing his hand around Thranduil's shoulders and bringing him close in a rough embrace.

"Come, my son." Oropher said enthusiastically, reaching for his sword that he had placed in the weapon stand. "We play with swords."

"As my father and liege lord wishes," Thranduil mumbled, taking up his own as well.

They walked at a quick pace out to the raised platform. Descending the stairs, they took a sharp left and headed to the practicing grounds.

As they walked, Thranduil looked about him. The trees were darkly colored and unlike the trees of Lothlorien. But the beauty lay in the people that inhabited them. Laughter was common here, for they were safe in the forest and safer within the high walls of the city. The people were all dressed in darker shades but had a variety of colors. Few desired the lighter colors, referring to become one with the forest with all the dark beauty it possessed. They passed she-elves sitting in the stairs, chatting animatedly. Some mothers conversed as they spread food on the ground while the elflings played with sticks and stones nearby.

Some of the _Ellyn _were reading, leaning against the stems of trees for support. Others sat together as they conversed and sang, obviously mixing words and choosing what was more appropriate for their poetry.

The best part was when the elves had looked up and noticed their royals walking among them. Their faces lit up in delight. Their king they held in great awe and respect, their prince with love and warmth. Oropher had schooled his features to a polite but pleasant expression. He was, by nature, very reserved in large groups. That did not mean he was not confident though. He simply wished to speak less. But he also had a talent for expressing his genuine feelings through fewer gestures, keeping everyone satisfied with him.

Thranduil, on the other hand, was open and honest. Often, he would bluntly give advice or announce an open opinion. He had an easy smile, making him more approachable by his people. Thranduil always met enthusiastically, easily giving counsel where it was asked of him. Oropher was more of a quiet listener, giving an ear to complaints. Each of them was great in his manner, in his own style and that was what made them more unique.

They walked much slowly with the throng around them. It was a while till they reached the practicing grounds. The sun had now passed its extreme position. Evening was to come in a few hours. There was plenty of time to practice.

The practicing fields were wide, made up of ground that was devoid of grass. At one side, the archery range stretched out before them. At another was a ring where elves were practicing hand-to-hand combat. Right in the middle was a ground where elves were playing with swords and spears. The ground had flattened down with elves treading everywhere.

When Thranduil and Oropher, with what little of elves had survived the Sacking of Doriath had come upon the wood-elves, they had been different people. When Oropher became their king, the first thing he had done was strengthening their cities and forming an army. Using spears, knives and hands for combat was something they were familiar with; Oropher had only given it more form.

To their surprise, they found Thorontur standing there. He was watching the elves fight, his hands clasped behind his back, looking hawk-like.

"What are you doing here, Thorontur?" Thranduil asked.

"I am here to practice my skills." Thorontur replied, not turning. His sword hung from his belt.

"Are you sure you could even wield that needle?" Thranduil asked, gesturing at his sword. Oropher gave a heavy sigh behind him.

"Thranduil, stop annoying him." Oropher told him.

"I am good enough."

"What you are good at, will also be forgotten at the rate you go in the study." Thranduil muttered.

"Is that a challenge?" Thorontur asked evenly, his face holding no expression.

"Thranduil-" Oropher warned.

"Let us go." Thranduil said, unsheathing his sword. "Let us see if you can move quickly, Thorontur."

Oropher sighed as Thorontur unsheathed his sword as well and followed Thranduil. His advisor had a very dry personality, and had even drier expressions. "Reckless boy," Oropher muttered under his breath.

"My lord," Oropher turned at the voice to find the sword-master standing behind him. "If you want to practice, I can be of service."

"Nay, thank you, Galion." Oropher said. "I think I would watch and enjoy my son's defeat at the hands of my advisor."

Galion bowed low, his face holding a small smile as he retreated.

Oropher turned back to watch Thranduil and Thorontur take their places opposite to each other. Both held their swords aloft, setting up their guards. Some of the practicing elves stopped to watch, others continued their training after glancing at them once.

The two elves eyed one another warily, both moving in a slow circle as they searched for the best course of action. Suddenly, Thorontur shot out like a viper. Thranduil swung down his sword to meet his, but it proved to be a feint. Thorontur's sword turned at the last moment.

Thranduil was not slow either. Both were experienced in swordplay. Thranduil was young and fit, his eyes picked up the tiniest details; a shift of muscle here, a footstep there that gave his opponent's moves away. But he was eager, and lacking patience.

"Slow down, Thranduil." Oropher called out to his son.

Thorontur's bland personality often made him to be mistaken as slow. But the advisor moved at frightening speeds, lashing out in swift, dangerous strokes. Thranduil moved back slowly, giving the advisor more and more ground. Thorontur still hammered down on him. In just a few moments, the match was starting to get interesting.

Thranduil stopped giving ground and started to retaliate. Thorontur was forced into defense, until he managed to kick Thranduil's calf.

"Unfair," Thranduil cried out.

"An enemy is always unfair." Thorontur shot back.

Oropher frowned. Thranduil's sword had wavered in that move; Thorontur could have taken the advantage. But the advisor used the flat of his sword to hit Thranduil hard on his shoulder before moving back. The game started again. Half an hour passed and Thorontur had another opening which he did not take advantage of.

That was when it occurred to Oropher that his advisor was merely _toying _with his son.

"Sly old fox," Oropher muttered, grinning as he climbed on a fence and made himself comfortable. With Thorontur's plan, it was obvious that the match was to go on for a while.

An hour and a half later, Thorontur won. He had successfully brought Thranduil to his knees, his sword resting lightly on the prince's throat. He let it stay there for a moment before removing it and helping Thranduil up. Thorontur clapped the prince's shoulder once before turning and heading towards Oropher.

Thorontur's normally expressionless face now carried a smug smile.

"You enjoyed that." Oropher murmured at him as the advisor passed him by.

"He was asking for it." Thorontur retorted, keeping his voice just as low.

Oropher laughed and shook his head. He had developed a close friendship with his chief advisor. Thranduil, on the other hand, could not stand him.

"I will be in the study if I am needed." Thorontur said, gracefully sheathing his sword. His face was expressionless once again. The advisor nodded at the king and turned for the walk, his knee-length tunic flaring around his lean frame as he moved. Oropher turned back to his son, who was approaching him.

"Have you had enough?" Oropher asked. "Or do you want more?"

"Well, if you are tired in your old age, father-"

"I am nothing of the sort." Oropher retorted. "Come! You and I draw swords."

He got off the fence and they faced one another.

"Thorontur was toying with you." Oropher warned. "I will not be so light."

"Go ahead." Thranduil replied dryly. "I absolutely love to be used as a rag doll."

Oropher raised an eyebrow and lashed out.

Their swordplay was not based on detailed stradegy as it was between Thorontur and Thranduil. It was more of a way to let Oropher give out his steam. Thranduil mostly remained on defense, switching tactis every now and then to keep his father guessing. Their game moved on for almost two hours, where they rested for a short in between before starting anew. The sky was darkening. Twilight had come.

Thranduil swiped his sword into a low-cut, expecting his father to jump back and retaliate. But Oropher was caught off-guard, and the sword sliced open his sleeve and his arm. Oropher hissed, sounding more annoyed than in pain. He took a couple of steps back as he lowered his sword. The practice was supposed to end at the first blood drawn; Thranduil was the victor. The crowd murmured amongst themselves in awe; Oropher was a formidable warrior. Even Thranduil had a hard time beating his sire.

"You certainly have improved." Oropher remarked, checking the open gash as he sheathed his sword. His son unnaturally did not reply. Glancing at him, he saw Thranduil wipe clean his sword and sheathe it, hand trembling as he did so. Oropher raised a single brow.

"Come, now. You cannot feel shaky at the sight of a little blood."

"Blood does not faze me, father. The blood of my sire, on the other hand, does." Thranduil said. He wiped the blood away before sheathing the sword. "You need to have that treated."

"You need to stop worrying, boy." Oropher retorted.

"Hm, ironic how it is you advising me," Thranduil replied, his voice just as sarcastic. He grabbed his father's hand. "Come, to the healer's wing we go."

"You are coddling me," There was a trace of amusement in Oropher's voice.

"Coddling is what Arodien does, though she insists otherwise." Thranduil replied easily, leading his father back to their lodgings while still holding his hand. Oropher, having experienced his daughter-in-law's attentions, only winced.

"Make sure you avoid her." Oropher said.

"Would I ever lead you to her?" Thranduil asked, glancing behind at his father with too innocent eyes.

"Legolas inherited his streak of mischief from somewhere, Thranduil." Oropher reminded him. "You were quite the menace, if I recall correctly. And I always recall correctly."

"And you, on the other hand, were the highborn and noble from the beginning."

"Impudent youngling!"

Thranduil chuckled. "Come, father. Let us go quickly. That is, of course if you do not want to meet Arodien first."

Oropher did not reply but there was a noticeable increase in his pace.

They reached their building.

"We have to name this piece of standing wood sometime soon, father." Thranduil remarked as they climbed the stairs leading to the raised platform."

One of the branches of a tree nearby swung down and slapped Thranduil on the back of his neck.

"Show some respect." Oropher chided his son. "that 'piece of standing wood' is where we live and it was tree sometime."

"Overgrown weed," Thranduil muttered at the tree, ducking and running for cover as another branch whipped through the air where he had been standing moments ago. Oropher gave a sigh and followed his son to the healing ward.

"You will need to learn to respect them eventually," Oropher told his son as they neared the healing ward. Both of them had kept a wary eye for Thranduil's wife.

"I will learn to live with them, if that is what you mean." Thranduil evaded.

Oropher gave his son a long-suffering look.

"For pity's sake, Thranduil, act your age." Oropher muttered, pressing a hand on the door of the healing ward to push it open. "It is not as if you are young anymore."

"I am young," Thranduil mumbled. "And if I was not acting like the way I am, how would your life be interesting?"

Oropher opened his mouth to protest and then shut it.

"Well, that is true." Oropher conceded with a soft chuckle. It 'was' comfortable with his son in the study with him. "But mark my words, your personality comes from your mother's side, not from mine."

"Duly noted." Thranduil said, nodding solemnly.

Oropher pushed the door open. At the same time, Thranduil started to say, "You know, I am surprised nobody noticed that you are hurt-"

Out of nowhere, many elves jumped forward in concern, chatting away as they dragged Oropher to sit down and be tended.

"Never mind." Thranduil said to no one.

oOo

The whole time while Oropher was getting his wound cleaned and bandaged passed in silence. It was only when the healer tied the bandage did Thranduil speak, "Was it painful?"

"I welcome you to take my place the next time."

"Happily watching, thank you father." Thranduil replied.

Oropher turned to regard him for a moment, his hands getting hold of his shirt as he pulled it on. The tunic followed.

"Well, I do not blame you. Your own position is risky enough."

"What does that mean?"

"I think I heard Arodien coming here." Oropher said casually, looking down as he inspected his tunic and shirt. "Ah, this will be a hard rip to mend. I should have changed clothes before going into the field. Oh and Thranduil, I think she knows that you were the one persuading Milwen to loosen her nature towards your son."

Thranduil frowned at him and turned his voice. Sure enough, he heard his wife's familiar voice questioning the healer.

"Who is hurt?" He heard Arodien ask. Oropher sat down on his chair once he dressed.

"The King, my lady."

"Now, you are in for it." Thranduil muttered, leaning against the arm of his father's chair.

"Good," Arodien's voice carried to them. "I will take care of my husband myself."

"I think it is the contrary, my son." Oropher said, having a smug smile on his face as he settled back in his seat.

Thranduil sprang up straight as his wife entered. She looked breathtaking. Her coal-black hair was freely flowing, the lilac dress flaring from her waist as she walked. Her brilliant blue eyes flashed in annoyance.

"You are in for a rude awakening." Thranduil heard his father mutter.

"Arodien-"

His wife reached him and poked him in the chest with her finger.

"I told you time and again," she said furiously, "I told you again and again to never, 'ever' come between me and my son. I told you not-"

"Arodien-"

"I cannot believe you would do this to me." Arodien said furiously, turning around. Thranduil's eyes flitted downward at the whirling fabric. Without looking back, Arodien snarled, "You had better be listening to me, Thranduil."

"I am." Thranduil protested hastily, looking up again. His wife paced in front of him, wringing out her hands as she spoke, "Using my friend to convey your thoughts to me. You could have just spoken to me. Told me what you had in mind-"

"I did." Thranduil protested again. Arodien turned around; narrowing her eyes at her husband and Thranduil swore not to speak again while she ranted.

Thranduil moved back slowly as his wife advanced. He gulped. No wife should be tested in her rage. It was time for some sweet talk.

"But Armes, my love-"

"That epesse will not get you anywhere," Arodien snapped. Thranduil grimaced. He was not going to gain anything that way.

"Father!" Thranduil cried, turning his head to plea to his father.

"I do not take part in domestic issues," Oropher replied primly, sitting more comfortably in his chair. "That is until a murder is involved. I take it will not come to that, Arodien."

"It will not, though I hope otherwise." Arodien replied through gritted teeth. Thranduil took a step back.

"Now, Armes-"

"Do not call me that!"

"Armes, you will not harm your loving husband and the father of your child, now would you?"

"Oh, trust me; there are worse ways to inflict pain." Arodien replied, raking her eyes slowly down her husband's figure. Thranduil heard something what suspiciously sounded like a laugh from his father.

"Do you have anything to say, father?" Thranduil asked politely, turning to look at his father.

"Nay," Oropher replied in the same tone.

"Perhaps there is some place you have to be?" Thranduil prodded.

The king smirked and settled more comfortably in his chair, crossing his legs and placing his hand on his knee.

"Oh, I am fine just where I am." Oropher replied, laughter evident in his voice.

"Father-"

"Alright." Oropher conceded, getting up from his chair. "My personal advice is to take the argument back to your quarters, otherwise you will have more willing audience than myself."

Thranduil could not reply; Arodien was scolding him again.

Oropher took his leave of the healing ward. Some of the elves had asked if he wanted to be escorted, which he refused politely but firmly. He never did enjoy being followed. His son tolerated it and even welcomed it for the sake of company but he personally always enjoyed solitude.

When he entered the corridors that held council rooms, he found himself facing an elf he knew.

"Hanon!" Oropher cried in recognition. The elf turned and immediately bowed.

"My lord! Well-met!"

"Well-met, indeed!" Oropher said, reaching over and pressing a hand over his shoulder in an effort to make him rise. "Come, enough formalities! What brings you here from your Rangers' Circle? I had thought you would be busy with so many new apprentices."

"I was, but I had come to see what you thought about our idea on underground storage rooms…"

"Ah, yes. That is a brilliant idea, like always. You are appointed a Commander for a good reason." Oropher told him. the Ranger Commander bowed his head.

"In truth, it was not my idea at all." Hanon answered. Then he lowered his voice. "It was Fion's."

Oropher's smile faded a little. "How is he?"

"The same but harsher and sterner." Hanon said, his voice still low. "Forgive me, but I am not comfortable of speaking where I can be easily heard." Oropher nodded and opened the door of a nearby council room. "In here, if you please."

The council room was well-lit with torches and a single round table stood in the middle, surrounded by chairs. The sky outside was darkening as evening approached. Birds could be heard singing in the trees.

In the light, Oropher could Hanon better. He wore black and brown garments. His black hair was done in braids that kept his hair well away from his face. He wore a quiver full of arrows and a bow was slung acorss his back. He had dual knives also and his stance was much easier than that of a Warriors. A single hawk feather shone in his hair, dangling from one of his braids.

"Come, sit." Oropher gestured, taking a seat himself. Hanon took care to sit after his king sat down. Oropher noticed but did not comment on it. He knew that his people took certain etiquettes seriously and there was no arguing against them.

"Fion has become much sterner than he had ever been before." Hanon said once they both settled. "His words are much harsher. Mind oyu," Hanon added at the look on the king's face. "He is not cruel, quite the contrary. But he is a firm believer of rules and woe come upon any who would go against him."

"I do not understand how this would be a problem." Oropher pointed out. "A Ranger following rules is a quite a gem."

"I thank you very much." Hanon said, laughing. Then he sobered. "I have been trying to get him to accept a Commander position. He refuses and is quite stubborn about it, the idiot. I thought perhaps if his king tells him to take the position, he would be more compliant."

"I can order someone to take a position but what good would he do if he is not willing to help?"

Hanon leaned forward. "I need good leaders in position, my lord." He said. "I can put someone else in the Commanders' ranks but Fion is one of the best. I can trust him to do the job because he is one the few who would actually see their missions through to the end. He is talented and he has gain a number of followers. He commands respect without forcing his views upon anyone and that is the type of an elf that I need to stand beside me. I can depend on him to take a place. That Commander opening will not stay forever, because I need it filled eventually. But I would prefer if he took it instead of any other."

"That is why you came here, is it not?" Oropher asked, noting the determination in the Head Commander's eyes.

"It is one of the few reasons," Hanon conceded.

"What are the others?"

"I will not budge until this request has been answered."

Oropher relented. "I will see what I can do." He told him. "Now, what other reasons brought you here?"

"One was to see to the idea of underground storage rooms-"

"Granted," Oropher interrupted. "Move on."

"Another is to see to my wife." Hanon said, eyes glimmering in amusement.

"That, I cannot do anything about." Oropher said, his voice containing his laughter. "What else?"

"Last but not least, I have come to speak about your grandson."

Oropher's smile faltered slightly. "Continue."

"He is twenty years old, my lord." Hanon said. "Forgive my boldness, but many are noticing the fact. The young prince is falling behind. Perhaps it is time for the youngling to have a field where he could set his mind and body to."

"The Warriors have already rejected him-"

"I was not talking about the Warriors."

"Then what, exactly?"

"I was suggesting my own Order to apprentice the child."

For a moment, Oropher could not believe his ears. But he had seen Hanon's lips move, so the second thing to cross his mind was that the Head Commander was joking. But the Ranger looked at him seriously.

"Ranger's life?" Oropher asked incredulously. "Surely you are jesting!"

"I assure you, I am quite serious." Hanon said. "You do not expect your grandson to be without a field as he becomes an adult-"

"So the Rangers will take him in just to make sure he is not without any." Oropher asked, his famous temper rising.

"Certainly not!" Hanon looked offended. "We are much pickier when it comes to choosing new apprentices. Nay! I speak because Legolas has shown great talent in some things that a Ranger should have. He is intelligent and observant of his surroundings. He is quick and nimble. His leaner frame only acts as a further contribution."

"And such traits make him qualify for a Ranger's life?" Oropher asked, his voice still holding a tint of annoyance. Hanon looked at his king with steady eyes. Then he said in a quiet voice, "He enjoys it also. He finds a certain thrill in it all. He wants a changing life and a Ranger's life is precisely that. I know that we and the Warriors have our differences-"

"Quite right." Oropher put in.

"But we have our own worth." Hanon continued. "And our training is not easier. While the first few years of the child are easily spent, the rest are full of vigorous training. Do not take our lives easily. We spend much time on our apprentices as well. That is why each Ranger is worth greater than a Warrior."

"You forget which class of the army I belong to." Oropher said, his Warrior pride pricking slightly.

Hanon spread his hands apologetically. "I did not mean my words to sting. I merely came forward because I thought the prince was worthy for our ranks."

"If you truly did think so, then why did you not come forward when he was fifteen?"

"I would have had the Warriors did not take him in first. And the rest of the previous five years were spent in wondering if I should approach or not. My Rangers were the ones who insisted."

Oropher sat silently for a long while. Twilight had turned to night and still he sat, thinking intently. Hanon sat patiently, watching the king's face.

"He is ready to take his place in our lives." Hanon finally said. "I sense it in him. Partly the reason of his restlessness is simply because he wants more than what this sheltered city has to offer him. Not all elflings are his age here in the city. A place where he would meet children like him may help him in settling down. And I know you would want a strong grandchild in the light of the coming days."

"I find it slightly ironic, the fact that my grandchild would become a Ranger when his father and grandfather are both Warriors." Oropher answered.

Hanon spread his hands. "And what evil is there in that? He is more beloved to us because of the fact he is our kin from his mother's blood. He will become even more beloved when he learns of the forest that we all hold dear in our hearts. But he is not suited for a Warrior's path. I know this. You know this. Even he knows this."

Oropher sighed. "Alright. I will speak to my son about Legolas."

"I expect your answer tomorrow then."

"So soon?"

"I must return to the Circle. I was needed sorely there, but this was also a pressing matter. And just to remind you, about Fion…"

"I will remember." Oropher assured him, getting up from his seat. "But mark my words, I doubt he will take it kindly to the fact that you are ordering him through me to accept his position."

"I have other ways to blackmail him." Hanon assured him as he rose from his seat. "He always did say to put him into something useful. I will use those words against him. But this was a much more effective method."

"So you leave tomorrow?"

"In the evening for the Circle." Hanon replied.

"Still hiding the location of the Rangers' Circle, I see. Is it truly necessary?"

"When concerning Warriors, aye."

Oropher laughed and led the Head Commander out of the council room.

"We part our ways here." He told him. "I must go and speak to my son, and you-"

"I must meet my wife." Hanon said, smiling. "I thank you for your readiness to listen. I must admit I had expected a harder audience."

_That was because my son was not here, _Oropher thought fleetingly. Outwardly, he smiled.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your brief stay here before you leave tomorrow."

"I hope so too. Farewell."

"Farewell."

Hanon bowed and then turned on his heel. Oropher watched his retreating back before turning away also. He had the intent of finding his son.

Oropher turned to around the corner and came to the Garden, where he is search was cut short.

At night, the Garden looked even more glorious. The paths were made of stone and lit by lamp lights that held candles within itself. Fireflies moved in the sky, hovering over the darkly colored plants.

His son sat on a bench in robes of silver and blue. He had one arm around his wife, who was dressed in gold and scarlet. Arodien was leaning against her husband's shoulder, singing softly as she traced the outline of a flower in Thranduil's hand. Oropher smiled softly. It seemed that the couple had settled their differences. He would speak to his son about Legolas tomorrow. What harm would one night do?

Speaking of Legolas, Oropher thought with a furrowed brow. Where in Arda was his grandson?

**~S~**

**Author's Note:**

I hope over 6,500 words were worth the wait. Some may be expecting Legolas to become an apprentice now, but I wanted to develop the characters and the idea first before going on with the story. Do not worry, we will be going on to Fion soon. :)

One more thing, Arodien means Noble One. Thranduil calls her Armes, meaning Royal Wife to please her. ;)

Reviews make me update faster!

**Some facts:**

I love chocolate.

**Legolas' mind-hearing ability: **(This was supposed to be in the previous chapter but I forgot). In the book, Legolas passes by a land with the Fellowship and he tells them that even the rocks mourn for the elves that used to live there but passed on. I wanted to show Legolas' this ability to put some relation between the fanfic and the canon.

**List of OCs:**

Fion: Elf. Ranger. He is Thranduil's close friend and Dorian's mentor.

Thorontur: Elf. Warrior. He is also Oropher's head advisor.

Arodien: Elf. Royalty by marriage. She is Thranduil's wife and Legolas' mother.

Hanon: Elf. Ranger. He is the Head Commander of Rangers.

Galion: (Unimportant) Elf. Sword-Master and leader of the practicing fields.

**Replies to reviews:**

Win Lockwood:

Haha, thanks! :DD (Sorry, my mind is a little fuzzy at the moment, so I could not think of anything else. :P I do appreciate your review. Count on that!)

ilovevollyball:

*takes the pizza*

Ta-da, new chapter!

Dorian understanding responsibility... do not count on it! :D

Legolas is not making decisions, I think. He is just being curious. :P

emi:

Ah! I just love wrong reviews. They always make my day. :D

I am not offended. I would probably do the same thing. Not many readers are keen on reading the story, so I do not mind. Do I do that? :D I did not realize my stories can do that. Do not compliment me too much, or I will get my head blown up. :P

I have to admit, I forgot about the Duel. I was going through my old documents and I found it saved with an entirely different name. So I changed the name and pinned it up so I wouldn't forget, lol.

The next time, I will bug you into reading a story. ;) There is a story called "Brothers At War" that you will find on my profile but I am warning you; it is a test of Eomer and Legolas' friendship, so I do not know if you will like it. :)

That was basically an idea. Milwen and Arodien's friendship mirrors Dorian and Legolas' friendship while Oropher and Thranduil's relationship mirrors Thranduil and Legolas' relationship... basically. I still try to keep Oropher's personality a little reserved and aristocratic. I think that is what suits him best.

I am not commenting about the part you wrote about the elflings. XD If I do, I might slip some hints. :P

Fifteen minutes? I am enjoying your review even more. :D :D

Guest:

In human years, Dorian is 15 and Legolas is twenty. However, they both physically look like children from seven to ten years. According to Tolkien, elves age slower in body but faster in mind. So their age is more than adequate for the training. :)

Also, one more point to be noted. Apprenticeship was considered more like studying in school, but you just have individual teachers. I would tell you more but I do not want to ruin the story for you.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Legolas stayed hidden in the lengthening shadows of the stables as he watched the Ranger tend to his horse. He knew he was a Ranger because his black and green clothes, and the bow and dual knives strapped behind his back. What was curious about the Ranger was the single silver feather hanging down from one of his braids that must have come from a bird. The elf murmured softly to his horse before leaving it.

"Do you need her immediately, Commander Hanon?" A groom asked him, coming over to take the Ranger's place.

"Not immediately," the Ranger answered. "Let her rest undisturbed for tonight. I need her for the ride back tomorrow evening."

"As you will."

"And do not call me Commander." Hanon added, sounding amused. "It makes me sound old."

"As you will."

Legolas eyed the Ranger. So this was a Commander. He seemed more easygoing and laidback than he thought. Legolas craned his neck to look closer. His clothes scraped against the wood, making a rustling sound. Hanon's head snapped up. Legolas retreated hastily into the shadows.

He was certain he could not be seen, but Hanon stared right at him for a while. Then the Ranger turned away, muttering to himself as he did so. Legolas let out a sigh of relief.

He leaned back on the branch, resting the back of his head on the wall of the house. Legolas breathed in deeply. He loved it; the feel of the wind at this height was different. It was fresh and free. He felt more alive here than anywhere else. It was calm and soothing. He heard the ellyth laughing down below as they chatted amongst themselves. He heard the sounds of plates and dishes on one another from the house. It was quiet and comfortable here.

Then he heard a knock on the main door and voices coming from the window.

"Why are you here, Hanon?" An annoyed voice asked. A light sprang up from the window. Somebody had lit the lantern inside.

"Is that a way to greet old friends?" Hanon asked in return. Legolas reconized his voice immediately. It was hard to let go of that Ranger's image when he seemed so respectable.

"Is something the matter, my husband?" A feminine voice asked.

"Nothing," the voice answered that initially sounded annoyed. Legolas thought the elf with that voice would probably be stiff and stern. "Take the girls and go inside. I will be with you shortly."

"But father, dinner-"

"Inside, now. Go with your mother."

There was a rustle of cloth over the wooden boards as the ellyth left the room to the two elves.

"What do you want?" He heard the unknown elf ask again.

"What do you expect?"

"I cannot believe you travelled all the way from the Rangers' Circle just to convince me-"

"I have other duties as well." Hanon interrupted. "But you are one of them."

"The answer remains the same."

"Perhaps there is a way to change your mind."

"Why do you want me, Hanon? Take someone else in my place!"

"You know my reason." Hanon's voice drifted over. The Commander sounded calm, though there was a slight tint of impatience to his voice.

"I already rejected your offer to join you as one of the Commanders."

"And you know fully well that I need you. You and I may not think the same but we are both extremely stubborn. I can continue pestering you for hours if need be."

"My answer will always be no, Hanon. Go look for someone else to share your burden."

There was the sound of furniture falling and the sound of someone hitting the wall hard with a thud.

"You have become a fool, Fion!" Hanon's voice was low and dangerous; the Commander was losing his temper.

With a jolt of horror, Legolas realized he was sitting right outside Fion's home. It was not a good idea to remain there. He had to get down.

"Are you threatening me in my own home, Hanon? Release me at once."

Legolas heard a sigh and footsteps as Hanon retreated.

"I tire of this game, Fion." Hanon said wearily. "We are coming closer and closer to danger. I need able leaders standing beside me. We will fall if we do not have them, Fion."

"We have many able Rangers-"

"Able leaders, Fion, not Rangers." Hanon corrected. "In fact, this is also related to something else. I spoke to King Oropher about his grandson, Legolas Thranduilion-"

Whatever Hanon was going to say next, Legolas never got to found out. He was so surprised at the turn of events, so surprised to hear his name, that he jolted upright and his foot slipped from the small branch, snapping it in two.

The rest of the events were more of a blur. He was falling, following the broken piece of wood down to the sheer drop below. But it had been only a few moments just after he lost his balance on the branch that a hand grabbed his by the collar of his shirt, choking him. He felt himself rise up and through the window. The hand released him and he fell ungracefully on the floor.

Once his head cleared, he found himself staring and being stared at by Fion and Hanon. He was in deep trouble.

"So," Hanon said sternly. "This is the young prince." Legolas gulped. His eyes flitted towards Fion, who did not look any happier.

Fion was tall, his thin frame making him look even taller. Even now, he towered over Legolas with hands resting on his hips. He was dressed in modest shirt and trousers, his thick but angled eyebrows close together in a frown. He had high cheekbones that added to his stern features. His hair was wavy and black, and the fact that they were free from his braids did not help in lightening his sharp looks.

"A menace from the time he was born!" Fion said angrily, and Legolas shrank back. Knowing he would not find a friend there, he looked at Hanon and then blinked. Was there a small smile lurking beneath that frown on the Commander's face?

"Come now, Fion." Hanon reproached his fellow Ranger. "You could not blame curiosity of the elfling. All elflings are curious at this age."

"I was not curious." Legolas mumbled.

"What was that, boy?" Fion asked, his tone completely unmerciful. Legolas shrank back a little more and Hanon shot Fion a reprimanding look.

"I was not curious." Legolas said, a little louder this time after Hanon gave him an encouraging look. "I was just sitting outside on the tree to enjoy the wind."

Fion snorted in disbelief. Hanon glanced at him reproachfully again, and then went to the window to peer down. Then he made a choking sort of noise.

"Youngling," Hanon said, turning around. He had look that seemed to be a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Hanon put an arm out of the window and pointed downward with his first finger. "Did you climb all the way from down there?"

Legolas could not see how that was relevant. "Well, I did." Legolas replied.

Hanon looked out again.

"That is pretty impressive for someone his age." Hanon said. Fion snorted in disbelief.

"That 'is' pretty impressive." Hanon said more firmly. He looked down at the young elfling. His eyes softened. Legolas sat on the floor, keeping his eyes lowered. To Hanon, he seemed to have looked completely cornered.

"You have a way of getting into places where you should not be, youngling." Hanon said finally, his voice not unkind. "Come, let us go to your grandfather to sort out this mess."

Alarm caused Legolas' head to shoot up.

"Must we?" He asked, pleadingly. He did not want that! But Hanon was firm.

"Aye, we must. You should not have been there, little one. Come, to your grandfather we go."

He helped the child up, and then glanced at Fion.

"You are coming with me as well, Fion."

"I think you have everything well under control."

"Absolutely not." Hanon said. There it was again, Legolas realized. there was a tint of annoyance in Hanon's tone. "I am not done with you yet. Do not argue with me, Fion, for friendship's sake."

"A friendship I could have easily lived without." Legolas heard Fion mutter under his breath. He looked in alarm at Hanon, who must have heard Fion's low remark but the Head Commander was unfazed.

oOo

Oropher came across the sight of a polite Hanon, an annoyed Fion and a guilty Legolas. He sighed. He had hoped to rest till morning before dealing with the odd trio but it was not to be. He looked down reproachfully at his grandson, but his eyes softened as he looked down at the elfling. Legolas did not want to be there any more than Fion who looked on with utter displeasure.

"Can this not wait till morning?" Oropher asked wearily.

Hanon merely raised a brow.

"Never mind," Oropher muttered, sitting back comfortably on his throne. "Tell me what happened."

"The king must retire for the night for the activities tomorrow morning." Thorontur interrupted Hanon as the latter opened his mouth to speak.

"There was a time when I used to sleep for the pure pleasure of it." Oropher spoke up dryly. As usual, Thorontur did not so much as smile, his face schooled in a pleasant, serene expression.

"Oh, I will not be long." Hanon replied smoothly, his voice matching Thorontur's. "It is a small matter that can be dealt swiftly.

"Rangers seem to have the ability to speak and banter till the plants have wilted and newer ones take their place." Thorontur spoke mildly. But Hanon knew the veiled challenge in the advisor's voice.

"You are not much different," Hanon growled, looking annoyed at the Warrior.

"Enough bickering," Oropher said. "I will have you, Thorontur, silenced and I will have you, Hanon, speaking."

Hanon flashed an easy grin and relaxed his stance. Oropher sat on his throne and leaned back comfortably.

"Well, my liege, it goes something like this…" Hanon said. And then he explained everything. As he did so, Legolas seemed to look smaller and smaller in shame and embarrassment for getting himself there. Oropher glanced at him every now and then in sympathy. The poor lad, he thought inwardly. It was not his fault if he were caught into this mess. His inquisitive nature was what made him who he was, though it was not always for the best.

"And it brings me back to our first notion." Hanon said, looking at the king meaningfully in the end. "If you recall my proposal, my liege…"

"Ah, yes." Oropher murmured, looking closely at his grandson, who was wedged in between the two Rangers. He wondered what the youngling was thinking. At his age, the two Rangers probably passed as intimidating. But Hanon was right. It was time.

"Very well, then." He said. "Hanon, you have your answer."

Legolas looked up in confusion.

"Good," Hanon replied. "We will leave tomorrow morning, if that is fine with you."

"Why not leave a little later so that I can speak to my son?" Oropher said. Legolas looked at one and the other in confusion and bewilderment. Was he… being sent somewhere?

"As you wish." Hanon answered. "Legolas can use that time to pack his things." At that, Legolas could not hold back his curiosity.

"What-" Legolas started to say.

"I will explain everything tomorrow morning." Hanon promised, patting the youngling on his shoulder. Legolas looked confused but decided not to pursue the case. Hanon looked up at the king and continued.

"Now, with regards to the empty rank of a Commander-"

"I have already told you my answer is still nay, Hanon." Fion said angrily. "You do not have the right to command me to take the position."

"He cannot." Oropher interrupted. "But I can. I have the right to appoint able elves on ranks of power and they cannot refuse it of me. So Fion, I order you to take this position under Hanon's command."

"But-"

"Are you arguing with your superior, Ranger?" Hanon asked, raising a brow as he looked at Fion. Hanon was an easygoing elf, but he never tolerated a question in authority.

Fion clenched his teeth.

"Nay, Commander." Fion said through his gritted teeth.

Oropher looked at one Ranger to another with thinly veiled amusement. Hanon was asking for trouble by forcing Fion into something he did not want to do. But that was Hanon's headache, not his. At least, for the time being. Chances are that the veteran would probably settle down without a complaint.

He certainly hoped so.

"Good," Hanon said smoothly, his voice becoming natural again.

"Then it is settled," Oropher said smoothly before continuing, "What is left now is that I tell my son what judgment I have passed."

"Do we speak to Thranduil today, my lord?" Hanon asked. Oropher noted that fact that his son was called by name. Thranduil was truly the people's royal in one aspect. Then he grimaced inwardly at the thought of Thranduil's reaction. Even Legolas seemed to be vaguely alarmed at the notion.

"Nay," Oropher said finally. "I do not think one more elf needs to lose sleep over this matter. I will speak to him of it in the morning."

"Good." Thorontur put in. "My king can then retire. You are needed tomorrow in the council after all."

"I am starting to think that you only care for my health and timings just so that you can get work out of me, Thorontur." Oropher snapped at his advisor, getting up from his throne.

At that moment, Thorontur gave another one of his rare, small smiles. "But my liege, that is your sole purpose. Is it not?" But Oropher frowned.

"You smiled twice in one day, Thorontur. That cannot be right." He muttered under his breath. His eyes softened noticeably when he glanced at his grandson, who looked as if he hated every moment he was spending there.

"You can go." he told the youngling kindly. "Get some sleep. You will need it if you are to wake up early. And try to stay out of trouble for tonight. There is enough excitement as it is at the moment."

Legolas did not need to be told twice. Giving his grandfather a swift hug, he left quickly. Oropher noticed his son gave a wary glance at the two towering Rangers. Hanon smiled encouragingly, Fion scowled.

"Dismissed." Oropher told them both. "And please no more incidents for the night."

"You will see none." Hanon promised seriously. Fion only turned and walked away. Oropher watched the newly appointed Commander leave before turning back to Hanon.

"You took quite an unwilling Ranger into your rank."

"He will get used to it." Hanon said, waving it away. Then there was a spark of mischief in his eyes. "do get your rest, my liege. You need it for tomorrow's council."

"You lot run me as if I were a mule." Oropher declared, turning away from the Head Commander, who only laughed.

oOo

The candle was burning low as Thranduil pored over the map spread over his desk. He slid forward his seat and glanced over the marked regions.

Thranduil ran a hand through his hair as he looked over the map. There were so many places to see still. Greenwood was vast and thick; there had to be somewhere he could be used for an able fortress.

"Underground, underground…" He muttered under his breath.

It 'would' be amazing if he did find a place underground for his people. But it would require hard work, and he did not know if they were up to it. Then again, father was right. His people were quite capable of extraordinary things.

He felt his wife's hands on his shoulders.

"Are you going to ride out again?" She murmured.

"I must, Armes," Thranduil said regretfully, "We have yet to explore the land. There has to be someplace we can make a standing."

"You will find it soon." Arodien consoled him. "You just need to look further."

"I have looked for twenty years."

"Greenwood has many secrets, Thranduil." Arodien told him. "It will take decades to learn them all. But I know for sure that the forest will have a place you are looking for."

"South," he said thoughtfully. "I have not yet went south."

"Do not forget that you have not yet gone here." Arodien reminded him, pointing at a vast unmarked region on the map with her finger.

"It is close to the Mannish settlements." He murmured.

"If you find the place adequate enough, that will not be a problem."

"If I find it." Thranduil muttered, sighing as he leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, you will find it, husband." Arodien said, humor in her tone. "After all, you seem to have a way of 'finding' things."

"If you are referring to the way we first met-"

"You were quite insolent as I recall."

"You were hiding in my wardrobe!" Thranduil accused. "I had the fright of my life when I opened the wardrobe doors. And I had every reason to become 'insolent'."

Arodien laughed.

"I do admit that the sight was quite-"

"Do not remind me." Thranduil replied, grimacing. Arodien laughed, a little louder this time. She patted her husband's shoulder, who also laughed.

"Father is insistent that he will tell Legolas about that 'garden'."

"Lovers' Garden?" Arodien asked. "You still refuse to take its name."

"That is hardly a problem." Thranduil retorted. "The problem is the fact that father is quite eager to tell the origin of its name."

"We were only kissing, Thranduil." Arodien retorted back. "Why are you so wound up about it?"

"Because father takes relish in my stories." Thranduil mumbled. Arodien kissed his temple sympathetically.

"Come to bed. You can continue your work in the morning."

"If I live till morning."

"What does that supposed to mean?"

"We have a son, in case you have not noticed."

"Thranduil, you are speaking in riddles." Arodien said, pulling on her husband's hand. Thranduil complied and got up from his seat, letting his wife pull him to their bedchamber.

"Legolas has the uncanny ability of getting himself into trouble when we think he has completely settled for the time being."

"Oh, nonsense." Arodien said, dismissing the notion. "My son is such a good elfling."

Thranduil snorted in disbelief. Arodien looked at him in severity.

"One more peep and you are sleeping outside the bedchamber." She warned.

Thranduil became quiet immediately, though he raised one eyebrow in a challenging manner. His wife laughed.

In another set of rooms, Legolas wondered what trouble exactly he got into this time.

oOo

He sat on the edge of his windowsill, looking down below at the forest floor. Some of the elves were still awake and speaking in low tones. Night was wearing on, and his heart was becoming heavier as it did.

He felt his wife lean against his shoulder.

"Twenty years have passed since it has all happened, love." She whispered. "I think it is time for you to let it go."

"I cannot let it go." He replied, his voice just as low. "It is what defines me, in the end."

"You have responsibilities. Your apprentices-"

"Responsibilities? Nay, I think them a burden. Another set of lives to protect. Another set of lives to fail."

His wife sighed and got up from his side. He heard a rustle of cloth as she moved away from him and towards the door leading to their room.

"In time, you will learn that this is in fact a blessing. But try to do so quickly, else you would regret that lost time that you should have treasured."

He only closed his eyes and situated himself more firmly on the windowsill. His stubbornness made his wife sigh again.

"I never blamed you, my husband."

The softly spoken words nearly undid him, but he hardened his heart once again. And she was gone.

**~S~**

**Author's Note:**

I am back. :)

This chapter was somewhat troublesome to handle but I have a sore throat, a headache and I am way too tired to tend to it further. Be kind please. :)

Excuse me now. I have the rewrite of OTWAB to update as well before I call it a day.

**Good? Bad? Let me know!**

**Some facts:**

**Timeline: **If you want to know what timeline I am following. Go to Tolkien Gateway website and search for the Second Age. It gives you the rough layout of what happened in the Second Age in a form of a timeline. Sauron or Annatar is not here yet to cause corruption and everything is still pretty much new. The elves are still in a large number and you will meet all sorts of nobles like Celembrimbor, Cirdan, Galadriel, etc.

**List of OCs:**

Fion: Elf. Ranger. He is Thranduil's close friend and Dorian's mentor.

Thorontur: Elf. Warrior. He is also Oropher's head advisor.

Arodien: Elf. Royalty by marriage. She is Thranduil's wife and Legolas' mother.

Hanon: Elf. Ranger. He is the Head Commander of Rangers.

**Replies to reviews: (Excuse my mistakes, I am a little tired as I write this. I am drugged with those nasty cold-fighting pills and am extremely drowsy.)**

emi: First of all, you gave me a fright when you reviewed BAW in this review. I practically ran for the laptop to check if I had accidently updated BAW chapters in this story. (I somehow missed the line in which you told me you were reviewing two chapters at once). My poor little heart was jumping around in fright. :D

Now that is pushed out of the way, I am so very deeply touched that you read the story AND reviewed it at the same time. Time is of the essence, especially if you are working too, so it means so very much to me! Thank you! And you were tired as well! Thank you so much, you review means more and more. :D

lol, I dont think I will be able to write the elk joke but the Duel I can do. Soon, I hope.

You asked a whole lot of questions and I am not answering any of it.

Sorry, for not giving a longer reply but my head is really stuffy. :P

SparkyTAS: Aw, thanks. :)

Issy: Thank you, such encouragement is always appreciated.

Anon: You know, encouragement means a lot and such correction means even more. :) I did not know that and you are right. I will get to that as well in the later chapters, but I must thank you for correcting my mistake. :D

Eldariel: Thanks! Tolkien has not mentioned the father of Oropher but he did mention that both Oropher and Celeborn had distant relations with Elu Thingol. Some people believe that Oropher was one of the first elves while others believe he was a descendant, but I am going with the former. :)

Brightpath2: Aw, thank you. :D I keep saying this but it is true when I say that such encouragement means a lot to me!:D


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